Fault
by Chance-Serenity
Summary: This is how I saw Fault ending. Yes, another Fault story. Rating it T because of one cuss word.


**Title:** Fault

**Description or rambling:** This is my version of how Fault should have ended.

**Author:** Chancie

**Rating:** PG

**Disclaimer:** I obviously do not own them or I wouldn't still be in debt to school.

I'm a cop first; I have to remind myself this as I stare down Gitano, who has my partner in his grip and a gun pressed to Elliot's bloodied temple.

I can't think about the consequences, there is a small life hanging on the outcome of this stand off. I can't help the tears slipping from my eyes and streaking my cheeks. It takes all of my willpower to hold my gun pointed towards my target, the target that has a gun to my partner's head and is using Elliot's body as a shield from my bullet.

Every time I swallow I can feel a slight twinge on the side of my neck where Gitano's knife cut me.

The longer I take to make a decision the more seconds I am stealing from a young girl's life. Each breath I take could be a last breath she takes.

Even now as my chest heaves from pain and indecision hers could be struggling to hold on for just one more minute, waiting for help, waiting for me.

I am a cop and I should never take my eyes away from a perp but I have to look at Elliot. I have to tell him something. The words catch in my throat because to say them out loud would cause me to hesitate. I feel my tears falling down my cheeks a perfect match to his. His lips move and he tells me it is okay, he forgives me and he begs me to make this right for both of us.

He held me and didn't want to let me go when I bled but he wants me to make a different decision. He wants me to let go. It isn't fair and I hate him for it.

Backup is on its way and I can only hope I can stall Gitano long enough so neither of us has to pull the trigger. My skin is sweating and the longer I stare at Elliot's eyes the desire to put my weapon down gets stronger.

It's the one situation you pray you never have to make in this job. Save your partner or the victim. Elliot is my family, the only family I have and he stands there begging me to shoot. Shoot for the small life that he couldn't save. He tells me it is ok and as he closes his eyes I know he is seeing the faces of his children, mentally telling them goodbye and when he opens his eyes to look at me he nods his head as I shake mine.

I slowly lower my gun and Gitano mocks me for my weakness. Elliot looks both relieved and angry. Gitano jerks Elliot around with the gun still pressed at his head.

I hear and see the last 7 years worth of victims in my head. I hear their grateful words when we beat the odds and the sorrowful cries of pain from the loved ones of those we couldn't save.

I see the children we couldn't save laying on a slab in the morgue, the bodies broken and bloodied. I remember the sight of a small life being drained from a slash across the throat, blood pooling under it, hesitation the cause of death. I remember the children we saved from becoming another victim. I see their loved one's faces looking at Elliot and me in gratitude. I think of the little life that still could be saved.

I stare into Elliot's eyes as they go wide in shock. I can feel the reverb in my hands as I stare at my partner. I watch as Elliot's body slumps to the ground. Gitano's body lies in a pool of red, the last mocking sound from his lips, a gasp. His eyes are already glazing as the shock in them fades into death.

I rush to Elliot and he looks at me and smiles. I hold my hands against his shoulder and pray. I pray that I made the right decision and it doesn't cost me my best friend and partner. My tears fall onto his shirt as I lean over and beg him to stay. His blood becomes glue between my fingers and his skin. With his good arm he pulls my head down to his and kisses me. His lips are salty and wet with his tears and they mingle with my own. He smiles again as his eyes close and he whispers that he is proud of me.

Everything freezes. I don't see the backup rushing around us; I don't hear the sound of panicked voices screaming into radios for a bus. I don't feel it when hands touch me, grab me and pull me. I dare to look briefly at Gitano with his two bullet wounds. One in the chest from me where my bullet went through Elliot to hit him and the other a head wound, a wound that only the sniper above us could have made.

I barely register being pulled up from the ground and walked to the waiting bus. My eyes never leave his body as they try to pull me in the direction of the 2nd bus. In my struggle my arm catches someone by surprise. My voice is angry and forceful as I refuse to be separated from my partner. I won't leave him.

The arms around me squeeze tighter against my waist as I am lifted from the ground taking away my leverage and as a second pair of hands grab onto me I watch as Elliot is taken away, the sound of the sirens deafening to my ears.

I vaguely hear the word shock being said between the two medics who have finally gotten me into the awaiting ambulance. I look up at the lights above me and I remember the sight of Elliot laying on the cold hard floor of the warehouse his blood on my hands and he closes his eyes. It is a scene that will be forever burned into my brain.

I don't wait to hear the doctor finish his speech. I hear the words releasing me and I bolt.

I stand in the doorway looking at him. The doctor says he will be fine but I won't believe him until Elliot is up and walking beside me once more. But he looks peaceful laying there with his head tilted to one side. They cleaned off all of the blood and his skin is clean once more. I sit beside him with my hand holding his and I begin to cry. My body shakes with the force of emotions being drained from my body. I am glad no one is near to hear me fall apart. It is a weakness that I show very few and one I hide from myself.

I want to yell at him. I want to curse him for pushing me. I want to tell him I hate him for making me be the person I have always been. For making me make the decision he couldn't. I didn't want to be the better cop. I didn't want to choose the victim. I didn't want to shoot the man I love in exchange for a stranger's life. So I lay my head down next to his and lay my arm across his stomach. My lips brush across his shoulder where my bullet went through him and into Gitano. My eyes close and I pray.

I have heard people describe the sound that brings them the most happiness and relief but I never thought I would describe mine as a pained moan.

I hear it rumble in his chest under my ear and it is the most beautiful sound I had ever heard.

I tilt my head to look him in the eye and he smiles.

"You shot me"

"You made me"

"I'm glad you shot me. I'm also glad you are shitty shot."

"If you ever make me shoot you again I will make sure my aim is better. Besides, I wasn't aiming at you."


End file.
